


i heard that you loved me

by lilaclavenders



Series: greatly appreciated [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Break Up, Confident Katsuki Yuuri, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Viktor is a bit not good, but not yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-06-15 14:53:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15415425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilaclavenders/pseuds/lilaclavenders
Summary: A dining table is inhabited by two, in silence."This isn't working," Viktor says, looking around the apartment: an emptiness to sleep in and with someone. He knows there isn't any dust on the bed, since he usually changes the sheets every morning - though there's a tonne of dust in places where he wouldn't let anyone else touch (like his heart, probably.)(An ending to the beginning of a new chapter.)





	i heard that you loved me

**Author's Note:**

> i really don't know where i'm going with this - all of this series will be a sort of non-linear narrative, but do not worry, this is not where their story ends!!!!

* * *

 

 

 A dining table is inhabited by two, in silence.

 

"This isn't working," Viktor says, looking around the apartment: an emptiness to sleep in and with someone. He knows there isn't any dust on the bed, since he changes the usually sheets every morning - though there's a tonne of dust in places where he wouldn't let anyone else touch (like his heart, probably.)

He's rehearsed his script so many times that he no longer feels compelled to personalise it, to prove that he cares. Actions may speak louder than words, but perhaps they've had more than enough action, so Viktor decides to cut to the chase. He knows the man in front of him will cry rivers, seas and oceans but Viktor's got a boat, sailing away as an easy escape. This isn’t a game of love if he never had intentions of pursuing it.

 

"Ha," a voice blurts, its waver no more brittle than Viktor's own glass heart, transparent and fragile.

 

Viktor looks away, unwilling to face the cascade of tears he expects.

 

There's nothing funny about it, but Viktor decides to humour everyone in the room. He pours a chuckle into his words, with a charm he uses freely, "What was the joke?" He's running out of words to say, running out of time, before he needs to change his sheets again.

 

"The sun hasn't risen yet and you already want me out," The voice replies, still retaining its low volume yet wields a sharper quality this time, a knife lightly tracing around Viktor's body. Viktor slowly turns his head. "Now that I think about it, you never really laughed at any of my jokes," he mumbles, as a bitter aftertaste of an afterthought. “You never gave any time.”

 

There isn't a teardrop in sight, though that isn't the reason why Viktor feels so unsettled. So, Viktor does not reply, does not make the first movement and does not look away from the clock. His fingertips twitch.

 

As someone who insists on keeping an air of mystery, how did he expect the man he had lured in not to be the same?  

 

"What? Cat got your tongue- Actually, it was me who got it earlier, so," The man says, his voice crooning and echoing, around the bland walls of Viktor's bare apartment. His sardonic giggle is empty, but caresses Viktor's ears all the same, loveless and chilling. He wants to laugh too, but doesn't deserve to.

 

The sun slowly starts to rise and that's exactly the moment Viktor's guest sees nothing but telling flaws. He marvels at the chipped paint, from all the times Viktor had whacked the buckle of his leather belt onto the same wall, taking it off with such urgency, with each time slot he gave to each he had ever temporarily loved. He finds himself amused at how the sofa has a slight crease, one singular dip that implies Viktor never had anyone to sit with him, never deemed anyone acceptable to sit with him anywhere outside the bedroom, ironically an intimate place for such a detached man as him. One coaster on such a large coffee table lays swept to the side, a brief reminder of his encounter between its cold, dusty surface and an even colder man still. There is only one pair of shoes on the shoe rack, and even then, Viktor hadn’t even bothered to remove the price tag for that.

 

It's somehow comforting to know Viktor isn't always careful.

 

A pair of bespectacled eyes spies an abandoned receipt, poking out from Viktor's trouser pocket, the garment itself lying carelessly on the ground. The stranger picks it up and analyses it with an amused glance, dark, whiskey eyes bouncing with a startling discovery. "Where is your dog, by the way?"

 

"Back at-" Viktor nonchalantly replies, before abruptly cutting himself off.

 

Viktor never once threw the dice for the prize, and chances and other trivialities were never his concern; he just liked the thrill of throwing the dice. Now, he has to reap in his losses, the consequences of forgetting that nothing in life is free. Nothing in life goes the way you want it and no God can save you, if your intentions aren't good and pure. (Maybe that's why their temple tumbles.)

 

Brown eyes smile, as warm as the rays of sun that peak through the blinds from behind him; Viktor feels as if a divine presence has come upon him and has begun to lay down his judgement. "I see," the voice continues, as bright as ever; dark eyes squeeze shut. Viktor remembers something about how raw umber intensifies when exposed to heat.

 

Viktor freezes, blinded by the sun. He's trapped, in the face of uncertainties that aren’t his own. Scratch that, his uncertainties are the reason he got himself wrangled with this thunderstorm of a being, a jackpot that Viktor isn’t sure he wants anymore. "No, wait-"

 

"I'm not stupid," expectant disappointment says, his words are as warm as his smile, but Viktor remains frozen. He releases a sigh and leans towards Viktor, who has lines of sunshine across his pale face, trapped in an invisible prison cell he put himself in; the fallen angel of a man locks it with a kiss on his cheek, ghosting over his lips. "This isn't your home," he whispers, a little raspy. He grins, as a man who's lived through betrayal and carried on does. "But don’t worry, it hadn't become mine either."

 

Viktor's sight trails after his stranger, already fully dressed, much to the former's surprise. The latter looks back once, the sun making his eyes golden and his lips shine from where Viktor had his claim on them, swollen and an open gate to flood his senses with a taste of his own medicine. If Viktor was brutal in the night, stealing things without letting anyone know he was there - then this hurricane of a man could surely be just as brutal as a summer solstice sun, stealing things in broad daylight, while letting Viktor fully know he existed.

 

(And only he existed.)

 

Viktor has delectable taste, after all, deserving someone just as ruthless as himself.

 

Viktor starts, “I-”

 

"And I certainly don't love you," the man breathes out, before he leaves, letting the door slowly swing shut.

 

A man of 22 years no longer sits opposite him, an innocent man, with his cheekbones angular and high, but his cheeks soft and rosy, stuffed with all the anxieties a university student has and more (though Viktor will never find out.)

 

You see, Viktor rips the band-aid quickly, after a couple of weeks, sheltered from whatever truths he weaves with lies and _he_ rips it slowly, letting the pain drag on without any time to heal. Of course, to put a band-aid on the first place, you have to realise you've been cut - Viktor does not realise this until much later, much too late.

 

A dinner table is inhabited by none, as the owner gets dressed. He swiftly vacates the scene, a bare apartment incriminated with all the words he had left unsaid and the sheets that smell like the ruinous reign of Yuuri Katsuki, the one with a soft vessel of a voice for the sharpest of words.

 

But Viktor knows. No one could possibly ruin others without having ruined themselves first. Burning cities would never come easy to someone who doesn’t know the sensation of scorched skin and a heart could never know heartbreak without it having experienced something real, once.


End file.
